Fragmenta
by yetanotherside
Summary: This is my version of how the boy Nasir became Tiberius and then Nasir again. Defining moments of a life.
1. Chapter 1 - initium

**Chapter 1: initium**

He woke with a start. _Nasir! Nasir! No! Nasir! _The voice of Adad rang in his ears. Every night it was the same. Every night he woke up from dreams of home. It always started out with his mother's embrace and her loving face smiling at him, placing a kiss on his head, with stories told by his father in his deep, monotonous voice that you could not stop listening to and laughs shared with his brother, playing games behind the house, chasing dogs down the street. If only the dreams would stay this happy. But his mother's smile turned into crying as she fell to her knees imploring the men not to take her son, his father trying to comfort her and Adad desperately calling out for him as the men dragged Nasir from the village. While he was glad to have the memory of his brother's smile and breathless laughter as company in this lonely place he longed for a full night of sleep. He looked around at the other boys who were sound asleep and knew he would not join them again this night. Slowly as not to wake the others he sat up. Back against the wall, arms around his knees he stared at the moon. It was the only thing that looked like it had done at home. Everything else was so different here: the language, the people, the air, the sun, even his own name. Tiberius they called him. "Tiberius," he whispered to himself, tasting the word on his tongue, heavy and foreign. "Tiberius, Tiberius, Tiberius."

They had tried to explain it to him but no one spoke his language well enough and he only just started to learn theirs. So he still did not understand why he could not remain Nasir and why no one told him when he would see his family again. He missed the songs his mother used to sing to him and his father ruffling his hair. Most of all he missed his brother Adad, who at twelve was only a few years older and acted all grown-up. Adad who had taken the blame for a broken vase and invented funny stories. Once he had shattered his leg while rescuing Nasir from a tree he had climbed on a foolish whim. His brother had never shown the pain he must have been in and even though he had retained a limp he never spoke of the day with anything other than pride for getting his little brother home safely. Adad surely could have made him understand it all. Why he had been dragged on to that ship and why they had bound his ankles and wrists, why he had to wear that collar day and night. What the words _Dominus_ and _Domina_ really meant. He had so many questions that no one ever answered in a way that made sense to him.

* * *

"Tiberius, Nessus!" The other boy was up in heartbeat, Nasir followed with a little delay. It had only been three months and it took a while for the name to be identified as his. The woman whose name he could not recall smiled kindly at them. "Come, services are needed."

A guard opened the door and closed it quickly again, firmly locking it behind them. She led them through the villa that was just beginning to wake up. Nasir marvelled at the luxuries around him. The little house at home had barely had any decorations, the most valuable possession being the tableware the village had given to his parents for their wedding. Here every other corner was ornate and soft draperies hang in the chambers. He had never seen anything like it before and was so mesmerized that he almost bumped into the woman when she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

"Dominus!" She sounded surprised and frightened. Nasir did not understand why. The man she addressed looked nice enough. He stole a glance at Nessus but the other boy kept his head down, staring at his feet. Nasir did not see a reason to do the same and took in the man he was supposed to call Dominus. He was tall but then everyone was tall for the boy. The expression on his face was stern but not angry. He reminded him of his uncle who had carved a little dog out of wood for him. Nasir could really not see why the woman looked as if she wanted to flee. "Tiberius and Nessus are to help with washing. We will be quieter. Apologies. We did not mean to disturb. Apologies, Dominus."

"You did not." He dismissed them with the wave of a hand and the woman instantly hurried along, Nessus following at her heels. Nasir hesitated and he could hear the woman hiss something under her breath but he ignored her.

"Brother see again? When?" The words tumbled from his lips, struggling with the foreign tongue. The woman gasped and in the corner of his eye he could see Nessus shuffle uncomfortably but he did not care. He needed to know. "Brother. Adad. See?"

Nasir gestured, trying to make himself be understood, a hopeful smile on his lips. This man who was called Dominus would surely have an answer. The blow came so sudden he did not even make a sound although his head hurt instantly, his vision blurred and the taste of blood was on his tongue.

"You do not raise fucking voice absent question, slave." The man practically spat the last word at him, striking him a second time. Harder even and Nasir fell to the ground. The kick that followed robbed him of his breath. Tears were now streaming down his face. He did not understand what had just happened. "Know place, boy."

"Apology," Nasir mumbled. That was a word he had learned very quickly and he hoped it was the right one.

"Dominus," the woman whispered at him while Nasir struggled to his feet. Barely able to stand straight he bowed his head and gathered his breath.

"Apology, Dominus," he finally said in the firmest voice possible, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"Find him heavier collar and no food for two days." Another blow made Nasir sway but he managed to keep standing. "Now fall from sight."

* * *

Back in the cell when he stared at the moon again his head was still pounding and his ribs hurt. His hands felt raw from washing fabrics and scrubbing floors all day. His stomach growled with hunger but as he could do nothing about this feeling he tried his best to ignore it. Instead he conjured up the faces of his mother, father and brother but since today had made him realize that they were lost to him forever they brought little comfort. When the sun showed its first rays and all his tears had been cried he made a decision and silently vowed to never mention Adad or anyone else of his family again.


	2. Chapter 2 - commutatio

**Chapter 2: commutatio**

The world started to slip, his field of vision – black on the edges already – shrinking more with every passing second. His lungs screamed for air and he desperately tried to catch a breath, his legs flailing helplessly in the air as Dominus held him up against the wall. He felt himself going limp when finally his master's grip around his throat loosened just enough to make a shallow breath. The next moment he fell to the floor, landing hard on one of his wrists but he did not feel the pain. All he noticed was the sweet relief of feeling air flooding his lungs. He was on all fours gasping and coughing for a while before any other thought would come to him. Dominus towered over him, a mad smile on his lips.

"Apologies, Dominus." Tiberius' voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Wine shall never taint robe again."

Tiberius had been supposed to bring wine to his master's chambers but the jug had been much too heavy for the boy and had almost slipped from his little hands. The red liquid had still spilled on the floor, a few drops landing on the hem of his master's robe. His punishment was well deserved, Tiberius knew. It was his own fault, he should have been more careful. He was just glad Dominus had not hit him again, the bruises around his eyes were still fresh, and another blow would most likely have drawn blood. Blood had to be washed off, the wound kept clean and he did not like the extra trouble. Tiberius knew from experience that being choked would also leave marks for a while. The trace of his master's fingers on his throat would start to show soon. His darker skin never developed the same shades of blue, purple and yellow as the other boy's but it coloured in its own way as he had seen when he had had the chance to steal a glance in a looking glass.

"Fall from sight."

"Yes, Dominus." Tiberius got up, bowed his head and left. His lungs ached and his breath still came a bit irregularly. Still he was smiling. Dominus had not denied him food this time.

* * *

_Drip._ Tiberius lowered his gaze to the ground, slightly bowing his head, trying not to stagger. He felt his bottom lip swell and resisted the urge to touch it. _Drip. _Blinking became increasingly difficult with his left eye. _Drop._ He should have worried about the numbness in his shoulder or the dizziness he could barely keep at bay or the fact that his master still had not dismissed him and the promise of more punishment that held. _Drip. _He did not.

He did not care. His mind was occupied with the tight knot in his stomach and _not_ looking at the bowl of fruit mere steps away, with not thinking about bread, trying not to notice the gnawing feeling in his guts. _Drip._ But the thoughts of food were not so easily shed. They had made him lose focus and stumble and walk right into the vase. The thing had shattered into a thousand pieces and Dominus had not hesitated to punish him. _Drop._ Tiberius watched his blood colour the floor. He was not sure where it came from but his arm stung. Maybe there was a cut. _Drip._ He was sure though that he had stepped on one of the broken pieces when he had tried to balance after a punch. He was barely able to bear the pressure of his own weight on his left foot.

"Pick up shards." Tiberius dropped to his knees. Still all he could think about was that tomorrow was the day he would be allowed to have food again. _Drip. Drip._ _Drip._

* * *

Tiberius fixed his eyes on a point on the opposite wall. They all stood in line, naked but for their collars and were being shown to another man by their master. This man seemed to be interested in buying one of them, for he studied every boy's face and body carefully, asked questions and verified sight by touch. As Tiberius was the youngest and smallest he stood last in line.

"What is that one called?"

"Tiberius."

"How old is he?"

"About twelve."

"He looks younger."

"He is small. He will grow," Dominus assured his friend and shrugged.

"He could be pretty one day." Dominus looked at him as if he had never actually _looked_ at him before. Tiberius knew nothing about being pretty but he very much doubted he was it but it was not his place to disagree.

"How long have you had him?"

"Three years. He is trained well but firm hand is advised."

"So I see." Tiberius had not looked at himself in a while but he knew that his throat and neck must visibly be coloured as well as part of his face, maybe even the spot right under his ribs. That one did not hurt anymore but he knew that likely the mark had not completely vanished. The man touched the bruising on his neck first. Tiberius' breath caught in his throat for a moment even though he had expected this, after all the man had touched all the others too. The skin was still tender to the lightest of touches. But the collar constantly reminded him of that anyway, so he did not flinch or make a sound. The man's fingers stroked over the yellowish skin on his cheekbone next, brushed over his ribs and lingered between his legs for a second before turning back to his master. "Pity."

* * *

His new master's hands fluttered over the sore skin. Tiberius could not stop looking at them. They were not very big and did not seem to be strong. Maybe punishment from them would hurt less. If Dominus did the punishing himself. He was sure to know very soon. It was only a matter of time until he spilled a little wine or reacted too slowly.

"Livia will see to bruises."

Tiberius was surprised. No one had ever shown any kind of concern over the bruises he had earned. He had always taken care of them as best as he could by himself.

"Gratitude, Dominus." It was the first time in his life he really meant those words.


	3. Chapter 3 - servus

**A/N: **There is a reason why this fic is rated M. This is it.

* * *

**Chapter 3: servus**

Tiberius rested against a wall. The villa had been full of people for most of the day and it had only just quieted down. He was tired. He barely had had a moment to breathe while fetching wine and food and running from one place to another. Though he was not the little boy he had been when he had arrived in this house anymore he was still the smallest of the slaves. He had made it into an advantage and was slowly gaining more trust and respect, tending to ever more personal needs of his master. He was quicker and quieter than the others, melding into the shadows when he was not needed, walking noiselessly, never speaking out of turn and keeping his head down. He was still not sure if he had just learned enough or if it was the way of his master that punishments were far less violent and less random than before. But they were and that was what counted.

"Dominus summons you." He nodded and followed Livia. She gave him a strange look but he knew better than to ask. The woman did not speak more than absolutely necessary. He would know soon enough. The female slave left him at the entrance to their master's chambers.

* * *

Tiberius entered and was surprised to be greeted with something of a smile. "Dominus?"

"Lift eyes."

When he did he saw his master stepping closer, eyeing him from head to toe, much like the first time he had seen him. Suddenly he felt very exposed.

"You are almost a man now."

"Yes, Dominus."

"You know age?"

"Fifteen, Dominus." Tiberius did not know for sure but he knew insecurity or hesitation would not please his master. It must have been about right because Dominus nodded. He stood unusually close and raised a hand. At first Tiberius thought he had said something wrong after all and Dominus would strike him but he only touched his cheek, softly caressing the skin. He then proceeded to run his fingers through his hair.

"Silken," he murmured with an unfamiliar edge in his voice. "Thing of beauty."

Tiberius stood still as a stone as his master's other hand stroked his thighs and then reached to cup his cock. He hoped Dominus would not notice his eyes widen in surprise for a brief moment before he had his expression under control again, fearing it would not please and result in punishment.

"A man certainly." Dominus' lips brushed against his ear, his body moving against his own, the fingers tightening their grip. Tiberius could feel his master's cock pressing hard against him. He knew now why Livia had looked at him that way. She must have known what mood Dominus was in.

"Remove robe." Tiberius swiftly fell to command. This was a task he had performed so often his hands did everything necessary without thinking about it. His master's aroused body was not a new sight. He had seen him lie with the female slaves more than once and had learned that Dominus was not pleased by shy glances. He wanted to be looked at. So Tiberius' gaze lingered while awaiting the next order. "Now remove own garb."

He did without hesitation, being naked before his master also was nothing new. Over the years Dominus had often inspected his body. Something felt different though this time. Somehow he knew he would not just be looked at. An instant later he found himself being pushed to his knees by insisting hands on his shoulders. Tiberius felt the familiar sensation of the hard floor scraping his skin. This was not the first time in his life that he knelt.

"I would have lips on cock." _That_ was a new thing. So far Dominus had only sought release from his hands. Tiberius hesitated for the first time this day but not long enough to cause displeasure. He fell to command though he was not sure how he was supposed to. He had seen the girls do this but seeing and doing were very different things. It was a curious feeling to taste his master's cock and to smell him so intensely. He was not sure he liked it but that did not matter and he did not have time to think about it. Dominus groaned, nails digging painfully into the flesh of a shoulder. Soon his knees hurt, as did his neck. A tight grip in his hair denied any chance to retreat when his master's hips thrust forward. Tiberius struggled with his breathing, fighting the urge to wrest himself free. It was in this moment that he understood what it truly meant to be a slave, a body slave. It was not about pouring wine or washing a back with a sponge. _This_ was it: battling all his reflexes, being someone's possession that could be used for pleasure, having no control over your own body like a puppet on a string.

* * *

"Up," Dominus commanded eventually, releasing him from his grasp. Tiberius stood up, the taste on his tongue made him feel nauseous but he was resolved not to let it show as long as he was still in his master's presence.

"Lie on bed." Again Tiberius followed the command and placed himself on the bed before him. His master did not have to tell him to lie face down, he knew what would happen. From there on everything was a blur: his master rubbing against him, dripping something on his skin, fingers spreading the oil, fingers testing and stretching him, Dominus' breath in his neck, beads of sweat dripping on his skin. Only the pain pierced through the haze, the pain that shot through him when fingers were replaced with cock, the pain that overpowered him and did not allow him to suppress an anguished cry or another one when an impatient thrust pushed him into the mattress.

"You do not like cock in ass?" Dominus' voice was teasing and at the same time deadly. It was unlike anything else he had ever heard from his master. It was new and new was dangerous because he did not know how to react.

"Apolo-"

"Quiet, boy!" Dominus put a hand in his neck and pressed his face into the cushions muffling every other sound that might have escaped his lips. Tiberius gritted his teeth. It was hard to breathe in this position but he fought back the rising tears, knowing they would cause further displeasure. When he accidentally bit his tongue he was glad he could concentrate on the coppery taste of his own blood, providing some kind of distraction. Finally – after what felt like hours but could not have been more than minutes – his master finished inside him and collapsed on his back. Tiberius allowed himself to breathe a little sigh of relief when Dominus withdrew.

"Leave."

"Yes, Dominus." He gathered his clothes and hurried back to his own bed.

* * *

He lay down and waited for sleep to take over him. But his head spun and not even a semblance of rest would come. His body ached but he chose to ignore it because acknowledging it would not have made anything better. From the years of being beaten he knew that sooner or later his body would force him to yield to its needs but as long as he could push this moment away he would. For now he closed his eyes and tried to get himself into that state of mind where all thoughts vanished and he was just there. He did not succeed. The taste on his tongue kept sneaking up on him, reminding him of what had just happened. He had known that Dominus would require this of him sooner or later. What he had not known was how it would feel, this sense of humiliation and the dread, knowing that if he pleased it would only be the first of many times and if he did not he would be severely punished.

Before long he knelt in a corner and retched.


	4. Chapter 4 - finis

**Chapter 4: finis**

„Oh!" The woman let out a sigh and Tiberius smiled to himself. He did not even have to really fuck this one to make her shudder. She was easy. Her moaning was beginning to deepen while his fingers did their dance and his tongue licked one of her nipples. He knew she was close and decided it was time to bring this to an end. She was ready, she practically had been the moment Tiberius had finished undressing her. No wonder. That dry old husband of hers probably frequented her bed but once in a blue moon. She would be quite satisfied and very much inclined to influence her husband to Dominus' advantage. Tiberius was good at serving the bodily needs of Dominus and his friends. There was no false pride in this thought. If it had been otherwise he would not have been in this situation. Besides, his master often boasted about the amount of coin and the many favours he had collected for his body slave's services. Maybe he was to bed the husband as well. It all depended on how important the alliance was. His master did not like to share him with other men. Women: yes. Men: rarely.

But one task at a time. First the woman. What was her name again? There had been so many it was hard to recall them all. The things he could have told them. Warming Dominus' bed and being at his side most of the day he had overheard a lot of things. About the alliances he sought to forge, about his business in the mines. So many secrets he would never tell. Never would he betray Dominus' trust. He felt no temptation to tell and jeopardize the respect and position he had earned. He enjoyed the small luxuries he got for his skills: a softer mattress, a few grapes, a cup of honeyed wine or another piece of clothing to warm him in a cold winter's night. He infinitively preferred this life to the one of starving and being beaten every other day. His body had never been his anyway but now no bruises coloured his skin and had not for quite a long time. It was a sense of security. Small but security nonetheless.

The woman grabbed his shoulder for a moment and he studied her face. Who was she? Sabina? Lucia? No, that had been the one who wanted to be fucked from behind. Faba had been the one who called on all the Gods and Gaia the one who smelled like a wet dog. This one was Atia. Yes, Atia, wife to Quintilius Iulius Scipio. However, her name was of no importance now. Her pleasure mattered and she just needed a little push. If he did not misjudge her – and he very, very rarely did – she would not even need his cock. He slid two fingers insider her and kissed a wet trail down her body until his tongue reached his fingers. She gave a little sound of surprise when he started licking her and soon reached her climax. She smiled at him, panting heavily. Tiberius was pleased to know his master would not be disappointed.

* * *

The sponge glided over the skin of Dominus' back. Tiberius washed his master without thinking about it. He probably could have done it blind. This body held no more secretes for him. He knew every centimetre of it, every curve, every hair, every dimple and every rough spot. Dominus stood in the water with his eyes closed while Tiberius scrubbed his back and Chadara his chest. The female slave shot him a look of boredom as her hand travelled under the surface to massage their master's cock.

Tiberius liked her. She was a nice girl who smiled a lot and was quick to notice opportunities. As a fellow body slave Tiberius had at first been cautious around her. Too many slaves had he seen being punished after whispers of others believed to be friends. He would not be one of them. Nevertheless, an alliance had formed and blossomed into something of a friendship. Chadara shared duties with him and they had realized that together they could make each other's lives a lot easier. By and by they had started to whisper, confiding into each other about Dominus' wishes and desires, talking about this body that neither felt any desire or passion for. Even though they also did not feel any attraction for one another they sometimes helped each other practice their skills at night. Silently and secretly as not to cause any trouble and receive punishment. He doubted their master would have liked his slaves being intimate with each other.

Dominus' groaning filled the bathhouse and echoed from the walls. Tiberius pushed the sponge under water again and squeezed it over his master's shoulders. He knew he would be doing this as long as it took Chadara to bring their master to completion. From the looks of it, it would not be much longer.

* * *

He listened to Dominus' laboured breathing, watched as he thrust into Chadara and wondered how long it would take him to finish. He knew the girl did not feel any pleasure, for that he did not have to see her bored expression. He had witnessed the thing far too often to believe otherwise and his own experience told him that Dominus held not concern for the pleasure or simply well-being of his slaves when satisfying his needs. Tiberius remembered the day he had first tasted his master's cock as if it had been yesterday not years past. He had come a long way since then. He no longer was the little boy that had arrived bruised and starved and he had left his insecure self that did not know anything about bodily pleasures behind as well. He had learned to use tongue and hands and lips to please. He had taught himself to see and anticipate, to fulfil wishes yet unspoken, to know when to be quiet and when to move, how to breathe away the worst of the pain, how to be the willing plaything his master expected.

"Tiberius, I would finish. Place cock in ass." The command snapped him out of his thoughts. He was not surprised though, Dominus liked to be fucked when he fucked. It was always an awkward position but by now he had done it so often that it did not present a problem anymore. He was about to follow the order when unfamiliar sounds disturbed the otherwise quiet night: shouting and cries of pain and metal on metal. The villa was being attacked.

"My robes. Quickly!" Tiberius hastily dressed his master who rushed out with barely a second glance on his slaves. Chadara sat up on the edge of the bed and cast Tiberius a questioning look. He shrugged and followed his master. The villa was in chaos. Wounded and dead soldiers lay on the floor, the slaves were huddled together in groups and visibly confused, some frightened and crying. In between, the blood stained attackers made sure none of the soldiers would ever draw breath again and shoved the slaves into the courtyard. _Herded like sheep_, Tiberius thought as he stumbled outside, where his master tried to regain control. In vain. A strongly-built bearded man unceremoniously dragged him inside. Somehow Tiberius was sure he would never see him alive again.

* * *

So this was Spartacus. The man did not live up to the legend. From the stories that were whispered the man was supposed to be a wild beast, a savage warrior, a man without honour. Tiberius only saw a man like any other. He had a habit of seeing behind the masks. It was a habit he had acquired with blood and sweat, one he could not easily shed in any situation. Once the blood was washed off Spartacus would not stand out for his appearance: he was neither very tall nor did he have a particularly memorable face. However, Tiberius had to acknowledge it, there was something in the way he spoke and moved that distinguished him from anybody else. There was pride in Spartacus' words and strength, something that marked him as a leader and he could sense that the others were instantly lured in. But Tiberius did not trust easily and he was far from welcoming this Spartacus and his fellow rebels. He did not even pay much attention to what he was saying until he ripped away his slave collar.

For a moment Tiberius was stunned. Then his hand travelled to his throat, touching it disbelievingly. The collar had been around his neck for so many years he did not even remember how it felt not to be wearing one. He eyed the Thracian as he went on about freedom. This man had turned his life upside down in a matter of minutes and Tiberius did not like it. The Romans would sooner or later end this rebellion and everyone knew that they would face a fate far worse than death. He had not asked for this and still he would be equally punished. Spartacus soon went to a more secluded place with the bearded man from before and some other tall rebel but Tiberius' gaze lingered. There was no gratitude in it.


	5. Chapter 5 - decisiones

**Chapter 5: decisiones**

The villa had quieted down. At little bit at least. The rebels were celebrating their victory, bathing in Dominus' wine and plundering his food supplies. The dead soldiers' bodies had been thrown on a pile, no doubt to be left to rot. Tiberius could only put a name to a few of them, the others had been maimed beyond recognition: Quintus who had used to smile at him in a very lewd way, Lucius with the blond – now red – curls, big strong Cato, maybe the one with half his face gone was Octavian. All cut down and roaming the afterlife and nobody seemed to care much. It was surprising to see so many of the other slaves join the feast so quickly. Why were they all so gleeful? They had gained nothing tonight. This rebellion would without a doubt be destroyed soon and they could count themselves lucky if they were awarded a quick death. His eye fell on Chadara who was all smiles and friendly words. As always she tried to make the best of the situation. Tiberius knew that he could have been just as engaging had he set his mind to it. He did not want to though.

Instead he wandered aimlessly through the villa. Again and again his hands found their way to his neck, fingering for the collar that was no longer there. Now that it was gone he felt it missing. It had been a familiar weight for so long a time. Spartacus had ripped it away as he had ripped his comfort and security away. Sudden anger flashed through Tiberius. Who did this man think he was? The Dominus, the other slaves, they had been his _familia_. His master had respected and trusted him. The rebels obviously did neither. Every mattress, however thin, had been claimed leaving only the floors for the true residents of the villa. The walls were splattered with blood and possessions lay broken on the floor or had been claimed as well. The men were everywhere: sleeping, fucking, eating, drinking and laughing. It was wrong. Fucking wrong.

* * *

Tiberius could not have said when and where from he had taken the knife. Once in his hands though he knew why and he did not have to look for long. Spartacus had withdrawn and whispered sweet nothings in his woman's ear. Tiberius sneaked closer. They lay in intimate embrace. She was pretty and he was not surprised that she was the woman on Spartacus' side. The leader always got the prettiest women. He wondered how long it would take Chadara to make a move on him. Tiberius studied the other man. Spartacus was defenceless, not wearing any armour, not paying attention to his surroundings. He did not spot a sword or any other sort of weapon. A few steps and a quick stab were all that was needed. He shook his head a little disbelievingly. By all the Gods, how had this man survived for so long? Tiberius took a deep breath and leaped. A moment later he had an answer to his question. The woman cried out and Spartacus reacted with surprising speed. In a matter of seconds Tiberius was easily overpowered and had the knife turned against his own throat. Though he cursed the fates for not granting him success he revelled in the disbelief on Spartacus' face. It was satisfying to see the certainty of having acted in everyone's interest crumble.

* * *

He hit the wall hard and struggled against the iron grip on his arms, but the men were unyielding. Still he would not meekly give in. He would hold his head high and show them that he was not ashamed. Why did they not end his life? What was there to talk about? The facts were clear. He had made an attempt on their leader's life. There could be no other punishment than death.

Tiberius took in the men before him. The triumvirate: the Thracian Spartacus, the Gaul called Crixus and the German named Agron. Tiberius listened to their conversation and sneered on the inside. Those were the rebel leaders? The men on a noble quest to free the slaves of Rome and take vengeance for their destiny? Yet they discussed his life as if he were a sheep up for slaughter. How was this any different from the way their masters had treated them? _You take but my master's place_, he had spat in Spartacus' face and he had been right in his judgement. Once again he found himself at the mercy of others. Nothing had changed. Had it been for Crixus or Agron, he would have been seen to the afterlife on the spot. The two were agitated and angrier even than Spartacus himself. It was interesting to see that the rebel leader surrounded himself with those men. Surely, there had to be a reason for this. What it was apart from them being contradicted by Spartacus he could not see. For the moment it was not important. Important was that apparently he would not see the shores of the afterlife this night for neither succeeded in convincing Spartacus. On the contrary the man even wanted to train him. When the Gaul left and slapped him so hard his lip started bleeding Tiberius was sure he would have hit him back had it not been for the men holding him in place although he had never in his life hit someone before.

He had expected the other two to leave him as well but they continued discussing his fate as if he was not there. Despite the situation he could not help being intrigued by Agron. His gaze wandered up and down his body more often than was sensible. The man was taller than Spartacus and radiated a sort of confidence he had not often encountered. The B on his arm marked him as one of the man who originally rebelled at the ludus. Maybe that was the reason Spartacus placed trust in him. What really surprised him was the irony of his words and the acid edge in his voice. Tiberius was sure that Agron was a man he had to keep an eye on.

* * *

The next morning Spartacus let deeds follow words and Tiberius found himself with a sword in one hand and a shield on the other arm sparring with the man himself. The sun was burning down on them and with longing he thought about the shade of the villa. He had never been required to acquire any fighting skills so he lunged rather clumsily at Spartacus who had no problem at all in deflecting his attacks. However, Tiberius had sworn to himself not to show weakness – especially not while he was being watched by Crixus and Agron, who he had noticed standing on the side – and kept swinging the blade that felt much too heavy for him. His hands already started to blister. They were not made for this sort of things, for wielding a weapon larger than a kitchen knife. He had hands to touch gently and give pleasure, to rub in oils and massage aching muscles. His hands fetched food, poured wine and draped robes. Their skin was soft and absent marks of hard labour. He wondered how long it would take until they started bleeding. He had not had a bleeding wound in so long it was almost another life.

Soon his whole body was aching and once again he was reminded of the comfort that had been taken away from him. Had Spartacus not invaded the villa he would be standing in some corner now, sinking in the shadows, moving at Dominus' every wish. Never would he have been exposed to the risk of hurting his hands. The same rage that had filled him the night before bubbled up again. More fervently he tried a new attack but Spartacus bested him in a few seconds, hitting the spot with the broad side of the sword, where in a real fight the blade would have cut through flesh.

"It is heavier than I imagined," he admitted with a nod to the sword, allowing a little of his frustration to show.

"It will lighten in time."

"And when it becomes as a feather? What purpose do you think it should fly to?"

"One of your own choosing." The answer surprised him and left him in a loss for words.

Luckily Spartacus was not interested in talking and they resumed the training and no more words passed between them but for corrections of and advice for his way of fighting. He listened and tried to remember as much as possible. If they wanted to train him then he would train, he would master this new skill and then see if Spartacus liked to reap what he sowed.


	6. Chapter 6 - nomen

**Chapter 6: nomen**

Night had fallen again and Tiberius sat alone, leaning against a pillar. All around him the rebels were celebrating again. At this pace Dominus' supply of wine would soon be gone. The other freed slaves were trying to fit in. He could see them sharing cups and laughs. Tiberius still did not care to join in. He stared across the courtyard. There he stood. The bringer of rain. The bringer of blood and death was more like it. Tiberius wondered if they would let him go. Spartacus had spoken of freedom and choice. What if he chose to leave and throw himself at the feet of the first Roman he encountered? What if he took his freedom and placed it in the hands of a new master? He very much doubted that Spartacus would have approved of this choice. As much as he doubted that he really had the choice to leave at least not as long as it could endanger the rebels. They would not risk him telling the Romans where they were and how many. Maybe he could stay behind when they finally moved on. Tiberius had no intent of joining the rebellion. He had trained and earned sore limbs from it but he had not broken words with anyone but Spartacus, not exchanging more than ten words. He was not at ease with these people and doubted he ever would be. He felt suspicion everywhere he turned and returned the sentiment. These were not his people. He had no place in their world.

He noticed the presence at his side but was not willing to acknowledge it until Agron broke the silence. Only then did he turn and accept the cup. After all, not long ago the man had voted for his death and as he was sure the sentiment had not passed he thought it wise not to anger him. Listening to other people's conversations over the course of the day Tiberius had learned a few things about the gladiator. Agron was from lands east of the Rhine, he had a temper and was one of Spartacus' most trusted friends, one considered a brother.

Even crouched beside him he was tall and Tiberius felt strangely intimidated. At least he had enough practice in hiding his feelings that he could be sure Agron would not notice. He studied him from the corner of his eyes. The German seemed to be a hardened warrior but there was something that did not fit, something just underneath the surface. If only he knew what it was, he might have used it for his benefit.

This mystery had to wait for the moment as Agron asked for his name. When he told him, it suddenly tasted as heavy as the first time he had spoken it. He did not lie, he _was_ more Roman than Syrian. He hardly remembered the land he had been born in but for the searing sun. Nevertheless, the name had never completely lost all its foreignness. Was he supposed to feel offended by the mention of this one Syrian Agron once knew?

And again Agron asked. Tiberius was surprised at the interest in him. This time the answer was not that easy. Of course he had had a family. He must have had a mother and a father once but they had faded to nothingness. Only Adad still visited his dreams in some nights but they were becoming fewer and fewer. The last time had surely been months ago. The laugh that once had been so distinct in his ear was sounding ever more distant, the smile blurred. His brother's voice was all he could really hold on to and he was not sure he wanted to. His life had become so much easier once he had let go of the illusion to see his family again. Somehow he had never been able to ban Adad from his thoughts.

"I only recall a brother," he said after a moment. The boy inside him felt betrayed. Had he not vowed to never speak of his brother again? His dreams and memories were the only things that really were his own and he had guarded them carefully. What compelled him to lower this guard now he could not have said.

"I too had a brother."

"No longer?"

"He was struck down by the Romans."

That was the _something_. Tiberius could see it in Agron's eyes and hear it in his voice. The loss of the brother at Roman hands was still fresh, a festering wound that had yet to scar. Tiberius did not feel pain when thinking about his brother, nor loss or longing. He had had to mourn when he had been too young to understand it completely. Now Adad was but a voice for him, nothing that could trouble him much. Agron on the other hand was more affected and it told Tiberius more about the man than every word he had heard from others. It was a weak spot. Finally.

"When you turned swords against them?" He kept his voice level and studied Agron's reaction. He was pleased to see the remark hit the sore spot. Anger flashed over the other man's face and a heavy breath escaped his lips but he did not lash out. He simply smiled at him in a way Tiberius had never seen anyone smile before. It was a mixture between mad determination and serious conviction, mingled with grief, a sad smile and yet somehow not.

"As you shall one day if you hold any fucking sense." The smile vanished with these words and gave way to a grave expression before he stood up and left Tiberius more thoughtful than before.

* * *

"Can you do what is asked?" Of course he could do it. He was the only one amongst the freed slaves who could. The real question was: Would he do it? And they all knew it, Spartacus, Agron, Crixus and most of all Tiberius. If he refused, the rebels would have a problem but one of them would probably kill him for this decision and if he had learned one thing as a body slave it was how to survive. So he nodded his agreement.

"I will personally see him to afterlife if he makes attempt at betrayal." As if this threat was necessary. Tiberius remembered Crixus making a very similar one after he had tried to see Spartacus from this world. Just as in that night he did not answer and only met the Gaul's stare.

"I am sure the little dog knows better than to bark at wrong tree," Agron remarked, once again the acid dripping from his words. Tiberius did not answer him either and turned to open the doors to the Romans and break words.

He had his hands folded behind his back, standing just straight enough to convey the pride of a trusted body slave but not so much as to give a sense of defiance in regard to the soldiers. He chose his words carefully and his looks even more so. This was his place in the world and it was going well until the soldier cast a closer look and Tiberius felt the missing weight of his collar. A mistake. If he wanted to survive he had to delay the parting of the Romans. He spoke the invitation and chaos broke out around him. Someone knocked him to the ground and someone's sword landed at his feet. It took him a moment to regain a sense of what was happening. The Roman soldiers and the rebels were fighting and it looked as if the Romans stood little chance being outnumbered by far.

However, the one solider Tiberius had spoken to managed to disengage himself and turn to Spartacus who had his back to him. Tiberius eyed the weapon on the floor before him. He could remain where he was and do nothing. He could sit and watch the soldier kill Spartacus and finish this rebellion. It was what he had attempted himself not long ago and no one could hold it against him. After all he barely knew how to hold a sword. If the Romans let him live, there would be a new master and he could go back to his life of some comfort and sense of security, knowing where his place was in this world. It was what he had wished for since Spartacus and his men had attacked the villa, was it not? _If_ the Romans let him live, _if_ he got a chance to explain what had happened here, _if_ the new master valued his services. _If_, _if_, _if_.

And then there were Spartacus' words in his ears: _One of your own choosing._

It was a curious feeling to force the blade into the man's back. The flesh gave less resistance than expected. Tiberius had imagined it to be a difficult thing but the blade cut through the man with ease. He pulled back the sword and stared at the Roman falling down, then at Spartacus. His breath came heavy. Before he could say a word Crixus grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to a pillar, angrily pointing a sword at him and shouting. Tiberius explained and was released from the grip. For a moment no one spoke a word and he regained control of his breath. He had just stabbed a man and not just any man, a Roman. _As you will one day if you hold any fucking sense. _Or had he completely lost all sense? He felt confused, conflicted even and wished to be by himself though he did not dare to leave just yet.

"You did well, Tiberius." Spartacus put a hand to his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. There was gratitude in them for saving his life and a spark of respect. _Tiberius_. The name had never sounded more Roman before. Spartacus and his men had presented him with a choice and Tiberius knew he had just made his. There was no going back from this point on. He had killed a Roman and with him the Roman in himself. Whatever that meant. If he was not Roman, if he was not Tiberius who was he?

"Nasir," he heard himself say. A laugh flashed in his memory, followed by Adad's voice calling out his name as if his brother wanted to tell him: There is your answer. He did not look at Spartacus who had turned around. He directed his words at Agron, who would understand their full meaning. At least Tiberius hoped he would. He had to suppress the sudden impulse to run his fingers across Agron's lips to remove the blood that coloured them. Instead he made sure the other man looked into his eyes when he said: "My brother called me Nasir."

It was the simple small nod that Agron made in recognition of the words that marked the death of Tiberius and gave life to Nasir again.


End file.
